I was at my doctor’s office, talking to her about some digestive problems I’ve been having lately, and she says to me, “You know, Ida, the older you get, the more your body becomes like a nun’s.”
That caught me off guard at first, but I pondered it and she kind of has a point. After a certain
age, there’s just a lot less margin for error. Gotta somehow keep yourself pure. But tell me, where’s the fun in that?
It seems like this happens overnight. But if you stop and think about it, you realize that’s not really true. Our bodies have been trying to get our attention, but we haven’t been taking the hints.
It starts off subtle: slight heartburn after a spicy meal, pop a couple of Rolaids and you’re good to go. Maybe you ate a little too much chocolate and get kind of cranky. It happens. Next thing you know, the fat on your body is moving around, going from your butt to your stomach, from your breasts to your inner thighs. Then your hair starts migrating from where you want it to where you don’t, and you realize, whoa! You’ve just entered an alternate universe.
In this brave, new world, you can be chewing a Junior Mint, right, and suddenly realize it has a crunch to it. New formula? No, that’s just the filling from one of your molars that’s decided to give up the ghost. And at this point, they don’t fill ‘em anymore. No, dear, we’re talking a brandy new crown. And guess what? You’ve just bought your dentist, his wife and kids a long weekend in a four star hotel.
You get a little carried away with Cherry Garcia, Chubby Hubby and Everything But the Kitchen Sink. So what? Here’s what: you wake up the next morning with a hangover. Seriously, a hangover from eating too much sugar! No alcohol involved. What is this evil planet?
On the death star, you can eat something (who knows what) and your stomach pumps up to the size of an over inflated beach ball. Huh? As if that weren’t humiliating enough, geysers of fire erupt like a volcano, sending molten lava up to squeeze your heart in a vice grip. Rolaids bounce off this beast like marshmallows, while you, curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, welcome the coolness of the tile and pray for relief. Countless “Our Father’s,” “Hail Mary’s,” and a few spontaneous “Jesum Crows” thrown in for good measure, and poof! The pressure valve magically releases, sending toxic vapors into the night. Get thee behind me, Satan! You crawl back to the bedroom, where your sputtering husband is blissfully unaware that anything’s amiss. Exhausted, you let slumber take you.
The next morning, when your husband asks, “How’d you sleep?” you stare back incredulous, hollow eyed, as you hook up that coffee IV and prepare to face the day. Geez Louise, don’t get me started on caffeine, which I know I should be cutting back on. But honey, caffeine and sex: at this point, that’s about all that’s standing between me and the convent!
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Body of a Nun
This Fall
September 25: A Visit With Ida, South Berwick Senior Center, 11:00am, South Berwick, ME
October 17: The Moose in Me, The Moose in You!, National Hospice Volunteer Conference, 8:00pm, Holiday Inn By the Bay, Portland, ME
November 3: Cold River Radio Show Live featured storyteller, 7:00pm, Theatre in the Wood, Intervale, NH